


This is for Anduin

by MagnaAlmaMater



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Necrophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnaAlmaMater/pseuds/MagnaAlmaMater
Summary: This is the worst turn of events, but it's somehow hilarious at once because he should have seen something alike coming. In retrospect, the man accompanied him his whole life, even though they've never really met.A.k.a.“Let’s revive Arthas and marry him to Anduin. Then he can lead Alliance again and kill Sylvanas, because she’s his fault anyway.”- read the note -
Relationships: Arthas Menethil/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	This is for Anduin

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this fic was written in 2017 after the Battle of Azeroth cinematics aired. I didn’t play WoW for a while and since like 2010 I’m only keeping up with the lore just from my friend’s stories. I remember to be amazed (like everyone) by how beautiful Anduin became. In a pub a friend asked how can we ever defeat Sylvanas and I came up with a joke _“Let’s revive Arthas and marry him to Anduin. Then he can lead Alliance again and kill her, because she’s his fault anyway.”_  
>  This is an unfinished story about exactly that.  
> I planned to post it after I finish it- one day. But I became progressively more afraid my alcohol induced crack prediction is getting too close to reality. Also this is my 13th fic on this account and I thought- Hell, why not!  
> Since it’s vaguely in 2017 lore, there are some alterations. The most obvious in this chapter is Calia’s mental coma. I decided to not correct it.  
> As for warnings, I tagged this non-con, but the consent is mostly dubious. There is alcohol involved and Arthas is mostly an asshole. He'll stay that way through the whole story. In case someone will feel like I'm making him likeable, or even excusing him later - no. Arthas was, is and will be an egoistic asshole. His relationship with Anduin will never be healthy, even if he proves himself useful and or even tolerable. Anduin's circumstances are special. If you in real life run into a similar dude, just block him and never talk to him again. Seriously.

This is the worst turn of events, but it's somehow hilarious at once because he should have seen something alike coming. In retrospect the man accompanied him his whole life, even though they've never really met.

“You look like him,” he heard too many people say. “You behave like him.” That was Calia and, unlike others, she had no bad intentions behind the statement, but it still offended him. It seems so absurd now, that something so pointless could ever bother him. If only he knew what's coming. 

It is Anduin's own fault anyway, since he didn't do anything to stop it. At first he thought such an insane idea can't be meant seriously, so he did not protest. Then he relied on his advisors not supporting it. After all, the whole plan had only a little sense in it, so it was only a matter of time before someone stood out, called it an insanity and then the whole deal would be forgotten. But that didn't happen. Despite the fact at least some of his advisors possessed common sense for sure. 

“If there is any chance-” they said and Anduin wondered if he truly failed them to the extent their hope was now with a man who was not only dead, but one of the greatest enemies they ever had. 

_ "You should be more like him.”  _   
Although Garrosh didn't use these words, Anduin already knew enough to get the message. During his teenage years he often came back to the prison experience for various reasons. Garrosh’s certainty of Arthas’ hypothetical ability to help him always made him think about the implications of it. In some weaker states of mind, he even dared to think that perhaps the man himself didn't have to be as bad as the legends say. 

It is his greatest quality and undoing at once. 

Anduin Wrynn always found compassion even for monsters.

“At least he recognized treachery, when he saw one.”

He always found curious, that her eyes were not dead at all. She is burning with hate and rage and it is so ridiculous and absolutely shocking to hear it from her, he doesn't find words to answer.  
Anduin wonders what she would do if she knew about their plan. Possibly murder them all. It's a funny thought these days.  
She thinks of death as of release. And he himself is starting to understand. 

He thinks there should be some rule defining how many times a person can be resurrected. A definite banishment from life. Somewhere deep in his heart he hoped the Light itself would materialize before them when they tried to revive Arthas, saying “No, the world had enough of this asshole.” or something of the kind.   
Perhaps the circle of life did not think of that. Or perhaps it does exist, and all this was merely an unfortunate exception. After the whole ordeal looks exactly like Anduin's personal bad luck. 

He doesn't understand why Arthas accepts the deal. Even before he met him, even though he was always quite delusional and thought the best of people, Arthas didn't strike him like a man who would go for political marriage. Not when brute force was an option. There were a great number of tales about Arthas’ character traits. Certainly enough for Anduin to get the picture of the man, if only he paid real attention to gossip.

But he said yes.

He merely glanced at Anduin, didn’t listen to half of them reasoning, he just agreed.

Getting out of the hell of Shadowlands, to be in charge again, get a chance to destroy Sylvanas, all of that for a sacrifice as negligible as getting betrothed to the King of the Alliance.  
It’s a fair price, perhaps.   
Anduin doesn’t know why he expected anything else.

Confronting Calia about it seems unnecessary. Since her own resurrection she’s been catatonic. Before they moved her back to her husband, for her own safety, Anduin watched her sit in silence and staring into nothing for hours. She doesn't need to sleep or eat and so she doesn't. Not even her daughter can bring her to life, so why a mere mention her damned brother would.  
Anything he could say to her was ridiculous anyway.

_ Calia, your brother is back from dead again. For the sixth time or something.   
_ _ He is a fucking prick, Calia.   
_ _ Calia, I'm to be wed to him.  _

When Anduin looked at her silent suffering, he wondered if there is some part of humanity which cannot be brought back by necromancy. Like goodness.   
Calia was profoundly a good person and that's why she was now an empty shell of a woman who was not supposed to be a queen.  
That too was his fault. 

Their marriage was merely a matter of securing their union. Bringing people from Shadowlands is a complicated ordeal and Arthas was not a mere human soul. Moreover, they needed to ensure the man could be controlled. In any case, he had to be tied to someone high in rank and strong with Light and Anduin would never force any woman to undergo such a humiliation like what was technically a posthumous marriage.

He tried to explain it to the man when he got a chance to speak to him. The first and only chance before the wedding in fact. The response he got, was a laugh.

“Alliance surely has changed their ways since the days I was in it.”

“I want you to know this arrangement is merely a bureaucratic matter.”

The smirk on the dead man’s face seemed distorted like if someone who had only theoretical concepts of a smile tried to cut it into a decaying marble. 

“Do you truly think I’d agree to it, if it was only legal shenanigans?”

“Our union is beneficial for both of us. Me, as a representative of Alliance. And you as a- our ally. This is to ensure loyalty on both sides of the deal.”

“And here I thought they are paying me in the prettiest peach they have.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are a part of the deal, dear. I’m killing that bitch for you and I’m getting you as a payment.”

He was taller than Anduin. He wore heavy boots to enhance that so he could look down on others, leaning over them with that white corpse face of his. He looked like death itself and perhaps he once was exactly that. His skin was wrinkled, sucked dry like a raisin. How old was Arthas when he died anyway? He looked at least sixty.

Anduin tried to recollect himself.  “Your award is a chance to get your revenge. Marriage is not an ownership.”

“Isn't it?”

That terrific smirk never left the man’s face. Anduin started to hate it.

“I'm your equal,” he said as hard as he could, putting emphasis on every syllable.

A pasty looking hand touched his chin, lifting it up. It was freezing. He forced himself to meet the former dead knight’s eyes, trying not to think about how improper, how disgusting the touch felt. 

“Do you feel like my equal?”

A big, rough thumb stroked his cheek in mockery before finally letting go. It was then he felt the uncomfortable thoughts creep in the back of his mind for the first time. The need to run. To hide. To escape before the hand that just praised him, because soon, it’d be the one holding him down.

_ He wouldn’t dare, _ he kept telling himself.  _ Not even Arthas would dare.  _

These thoughts followed him through the whole ordeal of what he would hardly call a ceremony. It was more of a ritual. A binding ritual. Some parts of it seemed a bit too off to be of a Light nature and he made a mental note to discreetly investigate where Kirin Tor got these ideas.

The leaders and advisors unanimously agreed that the marriage would be kept a secret from the public. Announcing Arthas is back and on their side now, would be complicated enough and it wouldn’t probably boost morale if people knew what it cost to get that murderer out of his grave again. 

He always thought he'd have a great wedding. Something with cheering crowds, flower petals. He imagined a nameless and faceless, generic woman in white and gold dress. The exact kind everyone would like to be their Queen. Beautiful with a gentle smile. He would hold her hands before the altar as the priest would bind them with a white ribbon and his father would bless them.  
That was ages ago of course.

There were no crowds, no ribbons, no happiness. And his father was dead for a long time now. They cared enough to arrange a celebration, though. A ridiculous little funeral-like event with forced smiles and mockingly cheerful music his husband didn’t seem to have any interest in, and Anduin found the strength to endure it only on the bottom of the wine glass.  
It’s later, much later that night, when he finally drinks enough to find the courage to retire to his rooms.

He should not.  
He should put his dignity behind and just sleep under the table. It would be preferable to the gross, dead man pushing him down on the bed.

“Men are not my preferred partners, but lucky for you, you look quite pleasant.”

He tries to push him off, but shit, he probably drank a way too much. If the former knight even notices his resistance, he doesn’t bother to comment on it. That disgustingly cold hand on his tight moves up and he closes his eyes, because it’s too clever and too quick.  
He doesn’t notice his clothes are pushed away until freezing fingers wrap around his manhood. It pulls a few times, undeniably experienced and perhaps if it was anyone else, it could have worked. But like this, despite the alcohol, despite the familiar heat spreading over his crotch as a reminiscent of pleasure, he can't bring himself to hardness.

Arthas’ hand moves to his backside in what has to be an awkward angle, but his eyes are closed for some time now.  
A dry tip of a finger pierces him and he does everything he can to not clench around him. It feels so violent. Wrong.   
He should have taken more of that wine. Perhaps he wouldn’t feel it at all.

A movement inside of him tears a sob out of him.

“I-”

Arthas snorts in amusement. 

He thinks about silly things, like his time in Pandaria. His capture during childhood. His time under the curious eyes of beasts- that was when he realized how unforgiving lust can be. A silly child he was, he thought he would appeal to men's honor in order to save his own dignity. Pleading them to let him be, that there must be no pleasure in claiming a defenseless one. Thankfully, they never dared to touch him. He didn't have to learn the hard way that the lust knows no mercy.

A voice full of poison somewhere in the back of his head tells him that he still doesn't have to know - If he doesn't ask, doesn’t beg Arthas to spare him, obviously. His pleads won't be fruitless if there will be none.

Still, out of instinct he pushes again. Palms spread against the man’s chest and it does nothing.  
His heart cries in panic.

“Please-”

He wears only a shirt and he doesn’t know how that happened. Perhaps he blacked out for a moment. Maybe Arthas took the rest of his clothes off when he was deep in his wine besotted thoughts. The man, on the contrary, is fully dressed.   
Leaning over him like an embodiment of death Arthas laughs and his teeth are too big to be human.  _ It’s because the corpse’s dents retract as it becomes dehydrated, making the teeth appear longer,  _ provides the last rational part of his brain. The rest of his mind has a better explanation of course.  _ It’s because he's a monster.   
_ He’s no child anymore, to be scared of death or monsters. But he feels he’s close to crying like one. 

“Please what, dear husband?” the monster laughs in his face. “Or is it a wife?”

The violent intrusion inside him makes it hard to think clearly. He bites his lower lip in an attempt to retain at least some dignity before crying out loud.

“Please, I-”

He doesn’t know why he pleads, if he knows it’s useless. The man has never shown mercy to anyone. Tears are running down his cheek and there is no way Arthas didn’t notice by now.  
It’s so unworthy of a king. He feels so pathetic.

“No.”

There is a silence. Nothing moves for a moment and he waits, waits for the attack, because he’s so openly vulnerable and every beast goes for the weakest spot.

“No?”

The man's voice is as cold as his hands.

“Please, no.”

There is a chuckle and then the intrusion violating his body disappears, because the man, despite everything, despite all Anduin’s assumptions, retreats. With heavy steps he leaves the room, closing the doors behind him. Like it was nothing. Like nothing happened at all. 

Anduin waits unmoving in the darkness of closed eyes, his legs still open, waiting for the invasion to return, but it never comes. Not after minutes, not even after an hour.   
He doesn’t understand. 

He rolls to his side, trying to get any grasp of reality he can. Arthas leaves, but the feel of his finger remains. He chooses to ignore it. 

Then he tries to sleep. 

He thinks he feels nothing, like a fool. Like he shouldn't recognize that the emptiness of mind, it’s only a calm moment before the storm.  
Arthas doesn't return, but Anduin night is restless although he instinctively tries to calm his mind. He knows something is coming, although he doesn't know what.


End file.
